and phrases, so that not only each part should be melodious in itself, but contribute to the harmony of the whole." He sought for a canvas in which this elaborate colouring, this skilful management of light and shade, might be attempted, in an address to a young man, instead of a scornful Delia or a proud Daphne; and he commenced with an exhortation to that young man to marry. To allow of that energy of language which would result from the assumption of strong feeling, THE POET links himself with the young man's happiness by the strongest expressions of friendship-in the common language of that day, love. We say, advisedly, the poet; for it is in this character that the connexion between the two friends is preserved throughout; and it is in this character that the personal beauty of the young man is made a constantly recurring theme. With these imperfect observations, we present the continuous poem which appears in the first nineteen Sonnets: in many instances they might shadow forth | cellence at which they aimed consisted in real feelings, and be outpourings of the in- the exquisite polish of the diction, commost heart, were presented to the world as bined with perfect simplicity." This, we exercises of fancy, and were received by the apprehend, is the characteristic excellence of world as such. The most usual form which Shakspere's Sonnets; displaying, to the caresuch compositions assumed was that of love-ful reader "the studied position of words verses. Spenser's Amoretti' are entirely of this character, as their name implies; Daniel's, which are fifty-seven in number, are all addressed "To Delia;" Drayton's, which he calls "Ideas," are somewhat more miscellaneous in their character. These were the three great poets of Shakspere's days. Spenser's 'Amoretti' was first printed in 1595; Daniel's 'Delia' in 1592; Drayton's 'Ideas' in 1594. In 1593 was also published 'Licia, or Poems of Love, in honour of the admirable and singular virtues of his Lady.' This book contains fifty-two Sonnets, all conceived in the language of passionate affection and extravagant praise. And yet the author, in his Address to the Reader, says "If thou muse what my Licia is, take her to be some Diana, at the least chaste, or some Minerva, no Venus, fairer far. It may be she is Learning's image, or some heavenly wonder, which the precisest may not mislike: perhaps under that name I have shadowed Discipline." This fashion of Sonnet-writing upon a continuous subject prevailed, thus, about the period of the publication of the 'Venus and Adonis' and the 'Lucrece,' when Shakspere had taken his rank amongst the poets of his time-independent of his dramatic rank. He chose a new subject for a series of Sonnets; he addressed them to some youth, some imaginary person, as we conceive; he made this fiction the vehicle for stringing together a succession of brilliant images, exhausting every artifice of language to present one idea under a thousand different forms "varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent." Coleridge, with his usual critical discrimination, speaking of the Italian poets of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and glancing also at our own of the same period, "In opposition to the present age, and says, perhaps in as faulty an extreme, they placed the essence of poetry in the art. The ex From fairest creatures we desire increase, fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, * 'Biographia Literaria,' vol. ii. p. 27. Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, use, If thou couldst answer-"This fair child of mine Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse-" Proving his beauty by succession thine! This were to be new-made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.-2. Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest, Now is the time that face should form another; For where is she so fair, whose unear'd womb So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time. Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend Thy unus'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee, Which, used, lives thy executor to be.-4. Those hours, that with gentle work did frame For never-resting time leads summer on Beauty o'ersnow'd, and bareness everywhere: Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.-5. Then let not winter's ragged hand deface With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd. Leaving the living in posterity? Be not self-will'd for thou art much too fair To be Death's conquest, and make worms thine heir.-6. Lo, in the orient when the gracious light Resembling strong youth in his middle age, car, Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy, Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly? Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Sings this to thee, "Thou single wilt prove none."-8. Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye, That thou consum'st thyself in single life? The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife: Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend, Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it: But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, And kept unus'd, the user so destroys it. No love toward others in that bosom sits, That on himself such murderous shame commits.-9. For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate, Shall hate be fairer lodg'd than gentle love? As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st In one of thine, from that which thou departest; And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st, Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest. Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase; away. Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Look, whom she best endow'd, she gave thee more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby Thou shouldst print more, nor let that copy die.-11. When I do count the clock that tells the time, Then of thy beauty do I question make, And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.-12. O that you were yourself! but, love, you are Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, O none but unthrifts :-Dear my love, you You had a father; let your son say so.-13. Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck; When I consider everything that grows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; When I perceive that men as plants increase, But wherefore do not you a mightier way With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours; And many maiden gardens, yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit : Who will believe my verse in time to come, If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? Though yet Heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes, So should my papers, yellow'd with their age, Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue; And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage, And stretched metre of an antique song: But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice;-in it, and in my Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? And summer's lease hath all too short a date: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.-18. Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the long-liv'd phoenix in her blood; Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young. -19. That this series of Sonnets, powerful as they are, displaying not only the most abundant variety of imagery, but the greatest felicity in making the whole harmonious, constitutes a poem ambitious only of the honours of a work of Art, is, we think, manifest. If it had been addressed to a real person, no other object could have been proposed than a display of the most brilliant ingenuity. In the next age it would have been called an exquisite "copy of verses.' But in the next age, probably-certainly in our own-the author would have been pronounced arrogant beyond measure in the anticipation of the immortality of his rhymes. There is a show of modesty, indeed, in the expressions barren rhyme" and pupil pen;" but that is speedily cast off, and "eternal summer is promised through "eternal lines ;" and "So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." Regarding these nineteen Sonnets as a continuous poem, wound up to the climax of a hyperbolical promise of immortality to the object whom it addresses, we receive the 20th Sonnet as the commencement of another poem in which the same idea is retained. The poet is bound to the youth by ties of strong affection; but nature has called upon the possessor of that beauty "Which steals men's eyes, and women's souls amazeth," to cultivate closer ties. This Sonnet, through an utter misconception of the language of Shakspere's time, has produced a comment sufficiently odious to throw an unpleasant shade over much which follows. The idea which it contains is continued in the 53rd Sonnet; and we give the two in connexion: A woman's face, with nature's own hand painted, Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes, and women's souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created; Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a doting, And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure.-20. What is our substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one's shade, On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, Between the 20th Sonnet and the 53rd occur, as it appears to us, a number of fragments which we have variously classified. and which seem to have no relation to the praises of that "unknown youth" who has been supposed to preside over five-sixths of the entire series of verses. We have little doubt that the "begetter" of the Sonnets was not able to beget, or obtain, all; and that there is a considerable hiatus between the 20th Sonnet and the second hyperbolical close, which he filled up as well as he could, from other "sugared sonnets amongst private friends :" O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem |